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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22617595">Ben</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLUG_CAT624/pseuds/SLUG_CAT624'>SLUG_CAT624</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Festivals, Force Bond (Star Wars), Holidays, International Fanworks Day 2020, Mandalorian Culture, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Old versus New Mandalore, Sad, Satine is a Mess, Traditions, Why do I make everything sad?, everyone's a mess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 19:00:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22617595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLUG_CAT624/pseuds/SLUG_CAT624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't supposed to be sad, danmit.</p><p>***</p><p>It’s an ancient holiday, dating back to Mandalore’s very establishment.  It’s one of the few Old Mandalore traditions that the Duchess had kept.  Gifts of devotion to the Mandalo're, or in this case, the Duchess.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ben</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Written for International Fanwork Day 2020.  Prompt: Characters discovering fanworks about themselves</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s an ancient holiday, dating back to Mandalore’s very establishment.  It’s one of the few Old Mandalore traditions that the Duchess had kept. It was a day of festivals, drunken riots, sex, feasts, and gladiators.  In many ways, under the Duchess’s reign, Mandalore had been ‘modernized’- cutting edge universities and healthcare, new space ports and transportation systems… but Mandalore was still Mandalore, and this one day of the year showed the heart of Mandalore culture- lust for life.  Orange banners fluttered in the breeze, and screams and laughter arose from every street.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was one tradition on the day that was scrutinized more than any other by the galaxy, the gifts to the Mandalo’re, or in this case, the Duchess herself.  These gifts of devotion cast a shadow on Mandalore’s democracy, and truth be told the Duchess would rather have gotten rid of it. But she knew her people, and there was only so much reform that they could take at once.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So one day out of the year, she stood out on the palace steps, clothed in an orange gown, headdress swaying in the breeze, and received those gifts.  Most of the time they were weapons- daggers, knives, swords, or precious gems, or the hide of some exotic creature. Little children gave her flowers, dolls, carvings.  More recently though, these traditional gifts had waned, and she began to receive research paper from students, a first look at cures from hospitals, new hyperspace lanes, new hover vehicles…  So it was with some surprise that she took the stack of flimsi from the 13 year olds hands. “I had a dream,” she whispered to the Duchess. “About you and a red haired man. So I wrote a story about it.”  The duchess smiled and thanked the girl, but her brow furrowed ever so slightly. She was distracted the rest of the holiday.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night in her chambers, she paged though the flimsi.  The girl had called her Obi’ika ‘Ben’, but she would know him anywhere.  It was a sweet, simple tale- where Satine was no Duchess and Ben was a school teacher and they lived out on a prairie with a little girl with curly hair and a freckled nose running around their feet.  And Satine wept.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wept, because once, a long time ago, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>could have been</span>
  </em>
  <span> her and Obi-Wan.  But they both had duties, so they had parted, left their second half, tore their souls and chained their hearts away.  So he became the perfect Jedi, and she became the stone faced Duchess. And she wept.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>And then, she felt an incredible wave of pure </span><em><span>love</span></em><span> wash over her, and she could almost feel him holding her, telling her to cry, a Mandalo’re can cry.  And then she would slap him across the cheek, because he knows she </span><em><span>hated</span></em><span> being called Mandalo’re, but not as much from him.  And then he would cry to, because he was a </span><em><span>di’kuta</span></em> <em><span>Jetti</span></em><span>.  Their tears would mingle, and then they would go out onto the balcony and stare up at the stars, holding each other.</span></p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Far away, deep in space, General Obi-Wan Kenobi locked himself in his cabin, and cried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>*di’kuta</span></em> <em><span>Jetti</span></em><span> - stupid Jedi</span></p>
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